


A Lost Love Leaves an Aftertaste

by neerapen



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Amnesia, Bittersweet, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Missing Scene, post BW #8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neerapen/pseuds/neerapen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a call with Maria Hill, Natasha decides that it's time for something better than milk and cereal. When she comes back at her desk, however, there's a shadow waiting for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lost Love Leaves an Aftertaste

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tumblr prompt "soup".  
> You can find it on my tumblr too [here. ](http://rosenlight.tumblr.com/post/97417080844/buckynat-soup)

"How did you track me?" she asks without raising her head, soup spoon in one hand and a Solyanka in the other.

The shadow stops near the window, becomes everything with the dark of the moonless night, and for a moment Natasha doubts her senses, ready to dismiss what her guts are telling her with another spoon of soup.

"The bandage," answers the shadow, moving a step forward and revealing what she was expecting to see: Barnes is still dressed in the same way she last saw him, and Natasha has the distinct sensation that he hasn't even changed since their last encounter. Some part of her protests that she should be pissed at him for tracking her, but a whisper in her head, a whisper fascinated by the Winter Soldier and the man behind the mask, makes her smile at him: a crocked, little smile that feels natural on her lips.

Natasha mentally scolds herself, glancing at her bag near the bed: "So," she turns to look at Barnes, still motionless, tactically hidden from everyone who'd try to spy on her from the window. "Why are you here?"

The room goes quiet once again. Natasha frowns at her soup and puts it on the desk, hand ready to catch the weapon she's hiding under it, and Barnes raises his hands up in surrender. "I was worried it wasn't a scratch," he hurried. Natasha tilts her head and stops her hand.

"I can take care of myself," she remarks, trying to suppress the strange pounding of her heart.

Barnes chuckles, clenching his hands into fists: "I know," he shakes his head. "But I was still worried. Sorry." He turns, looking at the window. "This was a bad idea. I should probably go."

Natasha tilts her head to the other side, observing him with a lump in her throat that she can't understand. "Are you hungry? I've some extra soup." Barnes stops, and Natasha can't help noticing how wired up he looks. She knows the feeling. "Since you seem so worried for me, the least I can do is thanking you with some food."

The light from the window isn't enough to see him clearly in the face, but she's sure he's smiling now.

He stays for the soup and they eat together in silence. It's strange and it's calming: she relaxes and he removes his mask. She stays in her chair and he eats on the floor, right in front of her,  weapons on her desk with his mask.

They don't talk, but she contemplates him, breathing in the sensations of shared solitude, and the bittersweet aftertaste of something that she can't pinpoint.

He leaves using the door, with a _thank you_ and a _good luck._

She smiles and says the same, but when the door closes, she's almost tempted to call him back.

Almost.


End file.
